


Ineffable Valentines - Day 5: Hearts

by LollyHolly99



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Other, literally I have 0 clue how to tag this one, this is a hell of an experiment right here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollyHolly99/pseuds/LollyHolly99
Summary: What makes the hearts of occult and ethereal beings race?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619575
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Ineffable Valentines - Day 5: Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> [day 5](https://mielpetite.tumblr.com/post/190020835427/okay-people-thank-you-all-for-your-input-i-have)! prompt: hearts!
> 
> man I rly didn't know wtf I was doing w/ this one. kinda ran out of time, kinda had an idea that ran away from me again, kinda gave myself the excuse of SHUSH I'M EXPERIMENTING and ended up w/ this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> oh well lmao

What makes the hearts of occult and ethereal beings race?

Demons don't have hearts, not naturally, neither physical nor metaphorical.

One in particular, though, has both - a physical one in his corporeal human body, and the capacity for love.

Angels don't have physical hearts either, but they are naturally inclined towards loving all of God's creations. Again, though, one certain angel added one to his human body, for authenticity's sake, and feels more love than any angel one might meet.

So, what makes a demon's heart race?

A declaration of rebellion, intentional or not, from a newfound angel friend, on top of a wall of a garden now-abandoned.

An unexpected meeting, pale blonde hair spotted amongst a crowd in the moments before a devastating flood, and while witnessing the death of a messiah, and while sitting with a drink in the middle of a now-ancient city.

The repeated denial of a partnership, then acceptance, an angel's relenting to a multi-century agreement, and the multitude of smiles he provides as the demon carries out good deeds to the angel's whims - so long as the angel returns the favour.

In that same regard, the thought of the angel returning the favour. The image of the angel committing sinful deeds, first mental, then real as he proves he can tempt humans and fulfill his part of the arrangement.

Acting the hero to the angel, the unease at being thanked, his stubbornness about his ruffled clothing, the pleasant joy of a shared meal with him, and a different kind of joy at watching him eat, hearing the content noises with every bite from a plate of crepes.

Rejection. Rejection in a public place, a safe place, where meetings happened with the angel. The sight of the angel walking away, huffing in frustration. The fear that this will be the last occasion to meet him.

Nerves, just before entering enemy ground. The first step, which burns, lightly, but enough to have an effect. A great demonic miracle, enough to level a church, and an angelic one in return, to save a pair of supernatural beings. Yet another demonic one, to rescue a bag of books, the slightest touch of hands with a forbidden friend whilst handing it over, and a quiet drive to a book shop with a grateful angel in the passenger's seat.

The plotting of a heist, interrupted by a sudden angelic presence. A tentative gift with the potential for great destruction, but with intent of only the reparation of an allyship - no, a friendship. A declaration of hesitance, and a promise of a friendly outing. The sudden disappearance of the angel.

Outings with an angelic friend. Excitement, even in the calm before a world-ending storm.

The end of eleven anxious years. Ups and downs, more ridiculousness and repeated rejections of allyship, culminating in freedom from old homes, both opposite and oppressive.

The first meal together with the angel, unwatched by heavenly and hellish eyes.

Mornings, waking up beside a beloved angel, already awake and having not even slept, enthralled by a new book. The touch of hands, and lips, and entire bodies, every time a new rush of joy.

A love, finally returned, finally vocalised, finally shown.

What, then, makes an angel's heart race?

The nervousness of admitting disobeyal. Millennia of unsure feelings towards a demon, an adversary, the only one of his kind to show a form of goodness within him.

Second-guessing his goodness as a potential form of misdirection, of temptation, of something for the demon to get his own way.

A multi-millennia friendship. Partnership. Acquaintance. The fear of admitting to anyone what it might be.

A request for a self-destructive power, treated as casually as any other meeting between the pair, harshly declined.

A gun, ready to fire. Its nazi owner, interrupted by... a demon. Demonic miracles, saving not only a supernatural pair, the bare-bones requirement for an arrangement to continue, benefitting the demon, with a redirected drop of a bomb, but also saving a collection of books, so precious, so dear - not precious to the demon at all, but rather his friend. A lingering touch of hands as the books are received again. A casual offer of a lift home, as though an entire world had not been turned upside down, as though feelings had not finally bubbled to the surface and realisations made themselves clear.

The seconds before entering a certain car, to hand over a flask, filled with liquid deadly to its recipient. The handing over itself, done with shaking hands, and another denial.

A great subversion of a higher power's Plan. Fear of consequences. Denial, multiple more times, of a friend. One final disobedience, and then... freedom.

Inviting a friend - no, not a friend, someone far more than that - to move away from the city, to move into a cottage together. Intimacy, previously forbidden, now unrestrained. Kisses and touches and words of affection shared with the demon. Millennia culminating in togetherness at last, at sweet long last.

What makes the hearts of angels, heavenly and fallen, race?

Love, among other things.

**Author's Note:**

> tomorrow. tomorrow i'll get back on track. i gOTTA
> 
> [hmu on tumblr](https://lollyholly99.tumblr.com/)! and/or [come hang in my gomens discord](https://discord.gg/6AMeV2C) which I keep forgetting to mention! <3


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